The Most Brilliant Flower In My Garden
by weregrrl
Summary: He knew when he met her, that it was her he wanted, and even if he was shallow and vain, and largely self-serving, she wanted him back. Companion fic to 'Hogwarts: A Mystery' - the story of Salazar Slytherin's parents. Can be read as a stand-alone fic.


**A/N: So, here it is. The long-ago-promised companion to Hogwarts: A Mystery, detailing the romance of Salazar's parents (although it doesn't have to strictly apply to that fic, or anything HP related, if you want). I personally love it, but - y'know - I wrote it. I'm biased in the most ugly way. :P**

Enjoy~!

* * *

_**Love Is More Vivid When It's Different**_

_Go away!_ Medusa screamed silently, willing the shadowy figure behind her to disappear.

The stranger had been following her for several days now, and she was beginning to tire of his stalking.

_He could at least have the courtesy to introduce himself! _She thought.

In truth, Medusa was thoroughly exasperated with the situation. The indignity of it all sent her close to hissing, but she refrained, only because her curiosity overwhelmed her other senses. Whoever this man was, he surely had a reason to be surveying her. Perhaps he wished to mate?

_Perhaps he has an overwhelming desire to be drowned?_, she thought bitterly, practically throwing herself into the pond before her, and wishing for nothing more but to stay there forever.

* * *

The week they met was the week he decided he would marry her. Not because he loved her; oh no. It was because of what she was. She, of course, also knew of his plans, and although she had always imagined mortals to be somewhat more romantic, she was willing to accept the gesture, if only because she was pleased by the shade of his eyes, and thought they would look lovely on a child.

Perhaps it was because they were both so happy with their arrangement, that she was so shocked when she was finally introduced to his parents. His mother was instantly furious, and made quite a show of it, screeching for him to throw that _creature_ out of their house, and going on and on about some matter of respectability. Frankly, she could not recall the entire conversation; she had soon become quite interested in her beau's father. The older man had remained far more reserved throughout his wife's ranting, but while carrying an aura of world-weariness that made the lady curious. She was not accustomed to shame, was a newborn to tears, and a stranger to anger, and she had never even imagined in all her life that there could be a combination of the three! Yet there it sat, in the hunched shoulders, the pursed lips, and the decidedly imperfect grey eyes staring back at her. She discerned that he looked ashamed. Perhaps of herself. Perhaps of his son. She did not know, but she found herself immediately attached to the man, with a fondness she usually reserved for her own siblings. She smiled at him merrily, and he managed a small grin back.

And so, despite the rift Cernunnos' announcement had made in the family, the couple continued to court, even as the months grew shorter, and he was expected to leave the quaint summer manor that had been his home.

* * *

It was on his last day at the manor, whilst in the rose garden, that Cernunnos first acknowledged that niggling doubt in his head that he may be doing something wrong.

"You will come back, won't you?" his lady asked.

"Of course," he replied, frowning, "I will return in another two turns of the season."

She nodded.

"Good."

The man shifted in his boots.

"Amortentia, I've been meaning to-" he began, but trailed off when he realised his beau was otherwise engaged by the sight of a single white rose. He sighed, but did not hold it against her. For what she was, her attention span was considerably long. She would only lapse into distraction when presented with a new anomaly to figure out, such as a white rose on a red rose bush. He, himself, was momentarily distracted by the striking image of her full lips pressed against the pale petals of the rose.

"Amortentia?" he asked gently.

"Hmm?" she hummed.

"I do not think we should continue this arrangement," he stated sadly.

This made her spring up from her plant so swiftly that she knocked the rose to the ground.

"Why ever for?" she questioned, a streak of steel crossing through her usually gentle gaze. Cernunnos felt chastened by her obvious determination, but his conscience forced him to continue.

"I do not really want to marry you," he sighed. The woman remained stiff.

"Why not?" she asked, her gaze burning into his skin. The man shook his head quickly.

"I do not mean that I do not see you as marriageable," he corrected swiftly, "just that I am unfit for such a task. I..." he halted here, "I may not have proposed to you for a particularly just reason."

"Oh..." was her only reply, as she bent to reach the fallen rose. Her shoulders had relaxed, but Cernunnos was not sure what had placated her. He stared openly at his betrothed as she absentmindedly twirled the flower between her delicate fingertips. Did she not wish to marry him, either? Had he not offended her? So wrapped in his own thoughts was he, that he almost jumped when she spoke.

"I am not being used," she assured him, sniffing delicately at the petals, "Or if I am, it is at least only in the sense that I am using you equally."

He looked surprised.

"You're using me?" he had the good sense to ask through his shock.

She also looked surprised for a moment, but nodded.

"Oh, yes, of course. Did you not know?"

"Well...no." he sounded offended, "What do you mean, you're using me?"

"There's no need to be upset. Up until a few moments ago, you thought I as clueless as yourself," she was still stroking at the flower, "You intend to defy your parents; I intend to have a child."

There was silence.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?"

"You could have a child with anyone, so why allow yourself to be mine?" He gazed at her distrustfully. What had she been up to?

"Because of your eyes," she said, distracting herself from the flowers at last, "I like them."

For a moment, they stood like that, gazing at one another with an unwavering persistence. He looked away.

"You like my eyes?" he mocked scornfully. She nodded, treading amongst the periwinkles until she could reach his face.

"Yes," she whispered, tilting his head towards her with the slightest touch of her fingertip. She inspected them deeply, "They are a very handsome colour."

His skin quivered under her gentle touch.

"And if you come to hate me?" he asked. The lady smiled, "I do not hate so easily."

"And if you wish to leave?" he continued.

"I shan't."

"If I drive you away?" he persisted. Amortentia nodded her head in acquiescence.

"Then I shall come home, but not without my child. You wouldn't want to keep them, anyway," she decided.

He grimaced.

"I suppose I could not ask for more," he admitted.

"And I have nothing more I am able to give."

He swallowed.

"Then we are equal, lady."

"Only in sin."

* * *

That was the last time he saw her that year, and in a way, it came as a great relief. However, with separation came clarity, and Cernunnos could only continue to question the morality in wedding a woman for the simple reason of spite. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his decision to wed? But Cernunnos, for all his faults, and cunning, and deceit, was a man of his word, and so when ladies presented themselves to him at the grand balls, and dinners, he refused their company – much to his mother's distaste. And despite all the attempts to keep news of his engagement private, it soon became common gossip that the Slytherin heir was soon to be wed, and to a mysterious woman he had met on holiday, no less. Cernunnos could feel the public's focus settle on his life.

* * *

Due to his mother's interference, and a particularly harsh winter, Cernunnos was late to return to his lady that year. In fact, when he arrived at the gate to the family manor, he was half expecting, if not half _hoping_ her to be gone. So it came to him as a great surprise when he found her there, if not in the same state in which he had left her. Indeed, her appearance had changed so greatly that at first he believed it to be another woman altogether who was reading in his sitting room. The first problem, he noticed, was that she was indeed reading, not simply flipping crassly through the pages, seeking a particularly colourful illustration with which to distract herself. But after that; after she had risen to greet him, a warm smile overtaking her mouth, he had noticed other changes. Her skin no longer held quite such a strong glow; her cheeks had taken on a more pink hue than green. Her hair had even brightened from silver to a clean white. The biggest difference, however, was in her eyes. Where before there had been yellow indifference, there was now an illusive golden glow that seemed to shift from place to place in the afternoon sun.

"My lord," she greeted, extending a hand to Cernunnos in a way that almost convinced him she was excited. He took hold of it gently.

"Amortentia," he smiled. His efforts were rewarded with a brilliant grin. He frowned, slightly wary.

"I apologise for being late, lady. I ran into some...trouble on my way here," he grimaced in remembrance of the stern lecture he had been given by his mother on family pride. The mere memory of it was detestable to him. To his surprise, Amortentia only grinned.

"I missed you," she said.

"I thought of you," he replied, not wishing to lie to his bride, and still wondering how she had come to change so much. If possible, the lady's grin widened at his words.

"Oh, I really did miss you!" she repeated, wrapping her arms around his middle, and nuzzling his chest. Cernunnos stood rigid, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. He had expected cold indifference, perhaps an inclined head, or a raised hand, yet here he was with his betrothed wrapped around his waist like she actually wanted to be there.

"Don't leave again," she whispered mournfully, and something compelled him to whisper back an affirmative.

"Alright."

He stiffly pulled himself away, "But, Amortentia, what has gotten into you?"

"Why, nothing, Cern," she replied contentedly.

"Cern?" he questioned, quirking one dark eyebrow skyward.

"You gave me a name, so I have given one to you," she answered nonchalantly.

"I see," he murmured, slightly put-out by her casual butchering of his name. But he did not have long to think of that, as his lady took it upon herself to drag him to the nearby lounge, saying, "Oh, but let us talk! You must have done so much these past few months."

"Nothing that would hold any interest for you," he replied earnestly.

"If it happened to you, I would not wish to hear of anything else for my entire life!"

The lady seemed to be genuinely delighted by her own statement, and Cernunnos was worried. Hesitantly, he asked her, "Amortentia... Answer me seriously, what has happened to you in my absence? You have become..."

"Mortal?" she quipped merrily. The man was shocked into silence.

"What?" he managed after a fair amount of time spent attempting not to gape.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about. I always knew it was going to happen."

"How?" Cernunnos asked, staggering from the woman's calm perspective of her own – in his opinion unfortunate - fate.

"That is what happen to Naga who stray too far from water for too long," she sighed dreamily.

Cernunnos, for his part, looked repulsed. So it was his fault? He had been right to worry over his previous, hasty decision. His bride appeared to notice his distress, and moved to calm him.

"Oh do not worry!" she cried, "There is nothing wrong with being mortal. I've actually been quite enjoying it."

"You're going to die," he stated bluntly.

"Not any time soon," she reminded him, before seeming to realise the situation. She seemed altogether quite too delighted as she consoled her future husband, "Oh, you feel bad! Do not feel bad. I chose to do this, myself. I was on the edge of losing my immortality, anyway."

"Why?"

That was the great question in Cernunnos' mind. Why had he picked her? Why had he wanted to spite his parents? Why? Why? Why? And Amortentia seemed so calm about it. How could that be?

"I already told you. Your eyes-"

Cernunnos' anger exploded.

"You stupid woman! Can you not see what you have done? What you have given up you can not get back. And for what? Some silly notion of having a child!"

The raven-haired man had approximately three seconds to compose himself before he was struck by another shocking revelation. Amortentia smacked him. She had smacked him. He barely felt it, such was the state of his unravelling conscience, but she had most definitely done it. And then she had continued to talk. Distraught. With tears in her eyes.

"It is not silly. That is what you do when you-"

The woman appeared unable to finish her sentence, and left the room in hysterics.

And she had smacked him. On his face. He held his hand to his cheek.

"Ouch."

* * *

When he found her, she was kneeling by that peculiar rose bush that insisted on having one white rose amongst the red, and seemed thoroughly intent on ignoring him.

"That's a curse, you know?" he offered quietly, hoping to appeal to her greater curiosity. It worked. Amortentia spun around quickly.

"What is?" she asked, with baleful eyes and a down-turned mouth. Cernunnos found himself crouching down next to her.

"The white rose," he pointed at the object of many of his mother's rants, "When my father was very small, he threw a tantrum and performed some accidental magic. He was apparently very bored of living in this house," he continued, glancing sideways at the woman, who for her part seemed rapt. He sighed, "Anyway, the magic; it hit one of the roses. It sapped it of all its colour. A white rose grows in the same place every year."

"Oh."

"It's not quite as interesting as you imagined?" he asked. The lady turned away to the bush, seeming to ignore him again.

"It is meant to be boring, after all," he assured her.

"I think it's lovely," she stated.

Cernunnos was confused, but he was more glad that she was at least talking to him now.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

Amortentia stared at him again, with the same baleful face.

"I do not think any colour is missing. I think it is more vivid because of its difference," was all she said.

For a long while, there was silence between the pair. Finally, Cernunnos broke the quiet with a sigh.

"Why did you run?" he asked.

His bride did not even turn to face him as she replied.

"You offended me," she stated.

Cernunnos sighed.

"I will not apologise," he told her. Amortentia nodded, but for the most part avoided his gaze.

"I know."

Sitting in silence once more, the man felt compelled to ask another question – one that had been chewing at his mind for a while.

"Why did you not run when you heard my approach?" he questioned his bride. This time, she looked. They both knew what he was asking about.

"Should I have?" she retorted.

Cernunnos shrugged.

"Most of even your kind have the sense to flee from danger," he replied simply.

"Are you a danger?"

The pair looked at each other for a long time, neither thinking about particularly much.

"Yes," the man admitted finally.

Amortentia turned back to her study of the roses.

"Then you are one I do not fear."

A dark look crossed her betrothed's face.

"You should."

And with that, he left her sat there amongst her flowers.

* * *

It was not long after this that Cernunnos asked Amortentia to leave, and she did just as promised, with a grim look set upon her face. However, the man found himself thinking that this would likely be only a minor upset in a long and contented life for the lady, and so squashed the feeling in his gullet that nothing would ever be right again in his life.

He found, slowly as the days passed, that he had come to rely upon his ex-bride, even when she had been far away. Still, he did not regret his decision, except when he was feeling selfish, which unfortunately for the young heir, was all the time. Sometimes he regretted it so much that he thought of returning to the grotto where he knew she bathed, to drag her back with him. In these wild moments of imagination, his lady – for she was still his, in his mind – was often naked, and very much wet, but that was not the point. The point was that for possibly the very first time, Cernunnos missed seeing somebody who wasn't a reflection in his mirror.

He felt very proud of himself, rather.

And common.

And alone.

And so one night, he did the impossible. He went to apologise. His intended was rightly miffed at the beginning - being that she held a deep affection for him, and also because she was attempting to fix her hair - but soon realised that she could probably get away with anything as far as her beau was concerned, and so asked if she could ask him a question.

"Ask me anything," was his immediate reply.

"Why did you name me after a potion?" she asked.

Cernunnos was surprised his bride knew what Amortentia was, but he smiled.

"Because you are everything I want."

He kissed her.

"And like the spoilt brat I am, I'm only now beginning to appreciate it."

And just like that, Cernunnos forgot all of his previous worries about the marriage. And he thought that perhaps, he was not doing this to rebel against his parents; perhaps that had never been the reason. No. He decided he was doing it for him. Because he had decided that he wanted to marry her. _Because of who she was_.

And Amortentia, for herself, found nothing wrong with that – even if she did secretly much prefer the name Medusa.

* * *

"What is your name, woman?"

The voice came from behind her, masculine and demanding. She continued hissing melodically, ignoring him.

"_I said, what is your name?_" he asked, slipping into the all too familiar hiss of Parseltongue. This time, the woman glanced at him sharply, assuring him that she had indeed heard him the first time, and had simply chosen not to answer. He was glad she had changed her mind, and to have finally caught her , she soon turned back to her hair, twisting her silvery fingers through it in silence. Cernunnos was about to demand she answer him when she finally spoke, with a lilt so unnatural that it sent him off-kilter.

"What is a name but a mark of ownership?" she mused, shifting her form in the water, and slowly drawing herself up out of it. The sight of what did emerge from the murky pool sent him to stumble.

Greyed scales glistened in the sun, water droplets clinging to the leathery flesh, or else flooding down from it as it arced through the air. For a moment, the scene held the world captivated. Then the tail dropped to the ground with a resounding thud. Unperturbed, the woman began kneading at her scales as they turned to legs. She then stood, clinging to a nearby sproutling for support when her legs failed, before righting her stance. Cernunnos was not sure where to look. The maid was naked, although her hair obscured much of her form. The girl herself seemed completely unfazed by her own shame as she raked her eyes over the man, a superiority in her gaze. Finally, her gaze met his, and she grinned uncannily.

"No, mortal," she stated, "I shall not tell you my name, but you may call me whatever suits your fancy."

It did not take Cernunnos long to compose himself, an idea forming in his head.

"What would you like me to name you?" he asked. The woman gazed at him eerily, as if she was discerning his soul.

"Anything you please," she replied.

"How about I call you my wife?" he dared to ask. The creature, for her part, merely continued to gaze at him in that unerring way, head cocked slightly to the side. After a few painstaking moments, she replied.

"Then that is who I shall be."

* * *

**A/N:**** Awwwww~! I remember writing this to Ghost of A Rose by Blackmore's Night a long time ago. The song just seemed to suit it so well (10 hrs straight of that song will drive you insane, although I _WAS_ procrastinating at the time). It's nice to see it finally up, even if I did spend 3 hours editing, chopping, and adding new parts *dies*. I'd say I'm going to sleep now, but I'll probably just watch Disney, or something, and that would turn into a lie...**

Love,

Lucy~!  



End file.
